Conscious Decisions
by Trish47
Summary: Post "Glass Spider": "Even though she couldn't remember how it had come to this, even though she couldn't get a clear picture of what or who had led them to dancing in this limbo, Annie knew that it was somehow her fault." I'm taking the "dream sequence" in the "Suffragette City" promo and running with it. Overtones of Annie/Simon, undertones of Annie/Auggie.


Disclaimer: I don't own _Covert Affairs_ or its characters. This story isn't being published to make money. Etc. Etc.

**I'm so glad that "Glass Spider" has inspired so many people to write! This oneshot is heavily based on the promo for "Suffragette City," specifically the "dream sequence." (So, Beware!, spoilers ahead.) It's probably one of the strangest things I've ever written, so I'm curious to see how it comes across.**

**Enjoy.**

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Conscious Decisions

She was deflating, shrinking into herself, and sinking into the car's leather seat. Her lungs were like balloons that someone had pricked with a needle near the knots so the air hissed out almost imperceptibly. Only Annie could tell that she was shriveling up and withering away. Every time she tried to inhale deeply, the holes stretched wider. Panic crept up the back of her throat, threatening to cut off what precious oxygen she could manage to take in.

If she was dreaming—and Annie hoped that she was, because otherwise she was having a serious medical problem—then this was the most tangible nightmare she'd ever had. Though the pain in her chest was real enough, so maybe it wasn't a dream?

"Open your eyes, Annie."

_That voice. . ._

Annie obeyed the familiar sound, then turned her head to meet the sea-green gaze of Simon Fischer. He studied her with an expression of concern.

"Everything is all right," he said.

_No_, Annie thought. _Everything is not all right_.

In fact, nothing seemed to fit that description. For one, she couldn't breathe properly. Then, try as she may, Annie couldn't recall where they were headed or why they were going there. And, if everything was so peachy, why did she keep experiencing surges of fear and alarm without any reasonable provocation? She wasn't being held at gunpoint or fleeing for her life. She was sitting in a car, with a man she loved, driving somewhere that happened to have an upscale dress code. So why was her heart playing a staccato drum roll against her ribcage and pumping adrenaline through her system in case she should choose to seek escape?

Maybe Simon's inaccurate blanket statement was only meant to settle her nerves, but how could she act calmly when every red flag was being pinged in her head?

There was also the matter of Annie having no memory of getting into a car with Simon in first place. She didn't recall changing into the red Donna Karan number she was currently sporting, nor having even purchased such a lavish dress—her money usually went toward a new pair of Louis Vuitton heels, not designer dresses. Simon was likewise decked out in his British best, cummerbund and all.

_Okay, so we're going to some sort of black-tie event_, Annie guessed. That didn't give her much information to go on. Was this an operation? What were her mission objectives?

"We're almost there," Simon assured her without really assuring her of anything.

"Define 'there'."

A trace of white appeared between his curved lips. "You'll like it."

_This is not the time for cryptic responses_, Annie thought, but her comeback was silenced as the woods they'd been driving through dropped off and left them in a sizable clearing. Within another minute, the car coasted through a set of gilded gates and came to a smooth stop outside of a large, white building. They'd arrived, though their destination remained a mystery.

_Maybe it's some type of fancy resort_, Annie determined as she stared out of the window and up at the odd structure. It resembled an idyllic vacation destination. White curtains billowed out from large windows, a blue-tiled fountain stood at the bottom of the main staircase, and its overall look screamed _relaxation awaits you_!

It reminded Annie of a prison. Something was off. If this were really a dream, she wouldn't choose to come to a place like this.

"Simon?" she breathed uneasily.

"Are you ready?" he inquired, ignoring her soft protest.

"For what?"

His eyes squinted slightly at her hesitation. "There was a time when you said you were ready for anything."

That _did_seem like something she would say, but this situation was different. Ask her to climb the most dangerous rock formation in the Mojave Desert. Challenge her to ride a bull—mechanical or otherwise—for eight seconds. Those things she'd say yes to every time. But right now every instinct was telling her to turn around and go home, to not get out of this car and go into that building.

Simon wasn't going to let her back away that easily. Ever the gentleman, he'd already gotten out of the car and come around to open her door. Holding out his hand, he gave her a single request: "Trust me."

As irrational as it was, Annie did trust him—to a point. They were, after all, both spies. Total, unquestioning trust between two people who had been trained to lie was probably impossible. There would always be secrets; their relationship would always circle around to the forced car crash that had initiated their first interaction. They'd been manipulating each other from the very beginning, and yet, Annie did trust that Simon wouldn't lead her to harm. She'd learned that in Cuba when he'd killed his own handler in order to save her life.

Simon bent his head to catch her attention. "Please, Annie, come with me."

That phrase sounded so familiar, like he'd said it before, just not in the same context. . .

An image suddenly came into her mind: Simon standing in an empty kitchen. He was asking her to run away with him. Something about an island, an established alias, an assurance that they would want for nothing. Then Annie remembered something even more startling: she'd said yes.

Had she actually packed her bags and gotten into a car, choosing to leave her old life behind so she could be with a former FSB operative? Was this not a dream after all?

_I'd be out of my mind_, Annie reasoned. If she ran away with Simon, she'd be betraying her country and everyone she ever cared about. How could she agree to never speak to her sister again? Or see the girls? What would Joan say if she left? And Auggie? Knowing her best friend, he'd track her down eventually, and then what would happen? Her happy ending with Simon and the sunset would be over. Not to mention, she'd probably go to prison for treason.

Annie was no traitor.

_Maybe_,_ in the heat of the moment_,_ I said yes_, she allowed, _but I had to have changed my mind_. She was sure of it.

The most logical thing would have been to convince Simon that their best option for staying together was for him to come into the DPD with her. But had she been able to persuade him to see reason? Trying to concentrate on her final memories only made it more difficult to breathe. Everything that had happened after she'd decided to renege on accepting Simon's proposal was a dark blur.

"Annie?" Simon prompted, that tone of concern coming back into his voice.

Looking into those gentle, loving eyes, Annie found herself dismissing her concerns and sensibilities. Slipping her hand into his waiting one, she exited the vehicle. Until Annie was sure they weren't in any danger, Annie would go wherever Simon led her.

_Besides, this is only a dream. A very strange dream._

They ascended the marble staircase, entered the lobby of the hotel, and stopped at the reception desk.

"We're checking in. The reservation is under Simon Fischer."

The clerk looked up the name on his computer and said, "I only have a reservation for one."

Simon seemed displeased. "The other name is Walker. Anne Catherine Walker."

_Separate rooms?_ Annie wondered. _Things are getting even weirder._

"Ah, yes," the clerk responded after double checking. "Ms. Walker, I'm afraid your room isn't ready. You'll have to come back to get your key. Please feel free to proceed to the banquet hall."

"Thanks," Annie said, confused. Why weren't she and Simon staying together? Didn't they have any luggage?

_It's a dream, Annie,_ her brain countered. _Of course there wouldn't be any luggage on a dream vacation._

Simon and Annie left the lobby and made their way to the aforementioned banquet hall. It was actually a grand ballroom, with catering tables lining two sides of the room, round tables with chairs taking up a good portion of the space, and the rest dedicated to dancing couples. Soft, lyrical jazz music played in the background.

"I'll get us something to drink," Simon offered, then disappeared from her side. Annie didn't want to be left alone in a place where she felt so unsettled, but she had no choice.

She took in her surroundings, looking for methods of quick getaway. The gut reaction she'd had in the car held true: she didn't like this place. Not one bit. Everyone seemed too relaxed, as if they hadn't a care in the world. It was unnatural.

In the corner of the room, a head of black, glossy curls caught her attention. They shifted as the man pivoted, revealing a bright, genuine smile set against caramel-colored skin. Even though they were on opposite sides of the room, their eyes met and the man's smile instantly faded.

Her breath hitched. "Jai."

Without a moment of hesitation, her feet began walking over to the man that she had seen blow up in a car bomb some three months ago. He was gravitating in her direction as well.

"Jai!" she called, as she approached.

"Annie?" He looked quite alarmed that she was there.

Almost as an afterthought, Annie wondered if she'd just blown his cover. Perhaps his death had been faked and he was working some long-term, high-stakes undercover operation. It wouldn't be completely out of the realm of possibility, given their employer.

"You're supposed to be dead," she announced bluntly, though she kept her voice hushed in case sensitive ears were listening.

Jai shook his head, still rattled by her presence. "Annie, I _am_dead."

_What_? Now that just didn't make any sense.

"You're dead?" she asked, seeking confirmation that she was crazy.

"Yes," he returned slowly.

"I have to be dreaming," Annie stated, running a hand over her forehead, as though checking to see if she had a fever. Maybe this was some sort of fever-induced hallucination.

"This isn't a dream," Jai returned. "Annie, you aren't dreaming."

Her eyes reacted, growing to comedic proportions before she blinked and tried to rationalize what Jai had just told her. She could barely breathe now. "Am _I_dead?" she whispered.

"I don't know."

This was the most surreal conversation she'd ever had, dream—Annie hadn't given up on that possibility—or not. She was talking to a dead man. She might be dead herself. Holy. . .what?

All she could do was keep the conversation going. "What is this place?" she fired off. "Where are we?"

"This is a reception for new arrivals. New souls," Jai clarified.

"You've been dead three months, Jai. I wouldn't consider you a new soul."

His lips quirked in contemplation. "Time runs a little differently here. The party never ends unless you want it to. I don't want it to."

She didn't comment on his unresolved issues. Instead she questioned him some more. "How do I leave?"

Jai frowned. "I don't think anyone's accomplished that before. But there are certainly a lot of us who'd like to."

This was wrong. She just wanted to wake up. She wanted to check out of this place, get back to the land of the living, and out of this crazy nightmare or whatever the hell it was.

"I have to make a call," Jai half-apologized. "I'm going to help you, Annie, in any way that I can. Just stay here."

He half-turned, stopped, and smiled at her over the shoulder of his finely tailored suit. "By the way, it's good to see you, Annie."

"I miss you too, Jai." Her voice sounded clogged with emotion.

With pleasantries exchanged, Jai departed with a swish of his black loafers, his polished curls retreating from her line of vision. Again she was left alone, with nothing but her racing thoughts.

Was she really dead? How? She couldn't remember dying. Had it happened that fast? She hadn't even been able to put up a fight! How could she miss her own demise?

Annie thought hard. She zoned in on her last concrete memory: Simon in the kitchen. What had happened after that?

_Wait_, Annie mentally paused herself. _If Simon is here with me. . .that must mean. . ._

As she stumbled upon this rather upsetting revelation, the man in question reappeared at her side and offered her a champagne flute.

"Your favorite," he said.

"I'm not thirsty," she responded.

"A nice drink will help you relax, Annie. You seem uneasy."

Yeah, that was one way to put it. "Simon, what would you do if I said I wanted to leave?"

Now Simon was frowning at her. He placed the untouched glasses on the tray of a passing waiter and turned back to her. "I'd say you can't leave without having danced."

Maybe she should have tried to stop him from taking her in his arms, but Annie found herself unable to resist. Realizing that Simon was one of the new souls being welcomed by Jai and the others had left her stunned.

"Simon, I want to leave," she whispered. "Can't we go together?"

He swayed them silently for a moment, unwilling to answer her question. Annie glanced up into his eyes. The look she found there, a pained emptiness, broke her heart. She was hurting him. Asking him to leave was asking the impossible. Now Annie knew why.

Simon spoke softly into her hair. "I can't leave, Annie. You know that, don't you?"

Tears licked the rims of her eyes as she snuggled a little closer to this projection of her imagination, an illusion so vivid that she could feel the warmth of his skin beneath her cheek. She nodded against his chest, even though she hated to admit that she understood.

"I'm so sorry for everything," she told him. Even though she couldn't remember how it had come to this, even though she couldn't get a clear picture of what or who had led them to dancing in this limbo, Annie knew that it was somehow her fault.

Simon remained quiet. He wouldn't want her to take the blame, which was probably why he didn't acknowledge her apology.

"Do you think it would have worked out? The two of us?" Annie tried instead. The pressure in her chest seemed to be abating. She could breathe a little easier now.

He brought one hand up to stroke the back of her head. The other he used to tip her chin so that their eyes met.

"Do me a favor, Annie. Don't linger on what might have been," he requested. Then he kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips. Pulling back just enough to speak, he whispered, "Let us have one more moment. _This_moment."

Annie closed the small gap between them and kissed him with everything she had left. He was so gentle with her that it made her jaw quiver with the effort it took not to cry. Wanting this kiss to go on forever, Annie slowed down and took her time memorizing the way his lips swelled under her caress, how his nose pressed into her cheek, how smooth the skin of his jaw felt beneath her hand.

"I don't want to lose you," she confessed.

She'd lost too much love in her life because of this job. She didn't want to count Simon among the casualties.

"Anne Walker," Simon soothed, "you are an extraordinary woman."

He captured her hand and brought it up to his lips to punctuate his claim, then he led her back into a slow waltz.

Annie let herself be lost. If this is what eternity with Simon Fisher was going to be like, maybe she could reconsider leaving. What would be waiting for her back in reality anyway? Pain. Betrayal. Heartache.

"May I cut in?" a voice asked genially.

This voice was familiar too.

Annie glanced over Simon's shoulder. "Auggie!" she exclaimed softly.

Simon dropped his hold, saying, "I didn't realize you'd show up so soon."

_They know each other_? Perhaps only in her mind.

Simon turned back to address her. "I have to go now, Annie. Should you choose to follow me, I'll be waiting for you."

"You'll be waiting a while," Auggie cut in. "I've never had the pleasure of dancing with Annie Walker, and I don't intend to give her up after one song."

Auggie stepped up to Annie and assumed a proper ballroom hold. Annie joined him, her eyes still locked on Simon. The sad emptiness had returned to his gaze, but he smiled at her and gave her a final farewell.

"Goodbye, Annie."

She couldn't even manage a response before he faded away into the swaying crowd. She wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet.

Thankfully, Auggie couldn't see the tears in her eyes. They took a few turns around the dance floor—with Annie tapping his shoulder if they got too close to another couple—before she chanced to speak again.

"Auggie, what are you doing here?" she asked. "You're not dead too, are you?"

The thought had started to bother her. She couldn't lose two of the men she cared for most in one night.

He chuckled, and the sound reassured her. "No. I'm here at the request of a mutual friend."

Annie was puzzled for a moment, until she noticed Jai lurking at the edge of the dance floor, a smug smile on his lips.

_Thank you,_ she expressed inwardly as she nodded in Jai's direction. His smile grew broader.

Then Annie focused on the man in front of her. "So, are you my conscience or something?"

He laughed again. "Not quite. More like a figment of your imagination. I don't have any moral agenda here."

"Right. You're here to extract me."

Auggie exhaled through his mouth. "I think Jai was a little confused," he started. "While I might have some pull around the agency, my connections don't extend to this plane of existence."

That wasn't the news she'd wanted to hear. "You can't help me?"

"Annie, I can't lead you out of here. You're going to have to get yourself out of this. I'm simply here to remind you that there are things worth coming back for."

"That's it?" she asked when he fell silent. "That's your pep talk? I figured my imagination might be a little more convincing."

"You have the will to live, Annie. If you didn't, I wouldn't be here."

"Then all I have to do is walk out? Anyone could do that." Jai's comment about others wanting to leave but being unable to came back to her. If all she had to do was turn around and push through the exit door, why didn't the others do the same?

"Who said it would be easy?" Auggie countered.

Annie didn't see what the problem was.

"Let me put it this way," her friend continued. "You know the adage about a door and a window, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, when you came here, a door closed. It won't open again."

As his words registered, Annie swept the room with her eyes, trying to locate the entrance to the banquet hall that she and Simon had come through. What she saw instead were large, brightly lighted archways lining all four walls, leading to seemingly identical hallways.

Annie stumbled, and they stopped dancing so that she could come to terms with the difficulty that lay ahead of her. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, then added, "What, no hints?"

"Your instincts have a roughly eighty-eight percent rate of success."

She almost hit him. "Not helping."

"There's no time limit," Auggie offered.

She took a deep breath. "Good." It would take time to figure out just what she was going to do. "Dance a little while longer," she requested. Other dancers were starting to stare.

"There's nothing I'd like more," Auggie said with his signature smile that made Annie's chest constrict with fond memories. Then he leaned toward her, dipped his head slightly, and brushed his lips across hers. "Except that."

Annie felt her face come alive with color. "What was that for?"

"Would you believe me if I said 'luck'?"

She shook her head. The smile was in her voice even as she said, "No."

Auggie shrugged. "Hey, I'm your imagination."

What kind of comeback could she say to that? It didn't make sense to argue with her own mind, especially when it was embodying Auggie. She chose to smile to herself instead. Auggie shifted his hold, bringing her closer. She leaned against him, just as she had leaned into Simon a little while ago.

Doing so led her to think of Simon again, and her mood became melancholy. Would she really not have the opportunity to say goodbye to him? Had his earlier farewell been meant as a final salutation before he went through his destined, gleaming corridor? Annie didn't want that to be true.

The music turned even more somber, and the dancing pair slowed down their shuffle, now merely swaying from side to side, like they were in junior high.

_For a welcome reception, this music blows,_ Annie thought trying to distract herself from thinking of Simon. It didn't work.

The words escaped her before she could help it: "I loved him."

Whether he was perceptive because he was a projection of her own thoughts, or if he was just being true to character, Auggie responded with a gently spoken, "I know."

The revelation freed up even more space in her chest, letting her lungs inflate fully for the first time since she'd become conscious of her surroundings in this universe. Somehow Auggie's acceptance made it easier for her to accept too. Actually saying the words—something she'd never openly stated to Simon himself—gave her a great sense of relief. Acknowledging that she loved him would allow her to start letting go, to begin the process of repairing her heart. This time, Annie was sure she'd be missing a few pieces of the puzzle, leaving her heart slightly incomplete but still functional.

Annie brought her head up suddenly, her gaze drawn to the edge of the room. One of the arches seemed to glow a little brighter than the rest. She stopped dancing.

"You've made your decision," Auggie stated.

She squeezed his arm as she pulled away from him and started moving toward her chosen arch. "Thank you, for everything."

"I'll see you on the other side, Walker."

A new wave of adrenaline washed over her as she approached the warm light streaming out of the archway. _Will this path lead me back to reality, or somewhere else?_

There was only one way to find out.

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**I feel like I should share a song here: I listened to Norah Jones' "Come Away with Me" on repeat while writing this. I'm convinced it is the perfect Simon/Annie song. ^.^  
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**My final comment is that I actually grew very fond of Simon, especially in his final episode. I think I may just miss him.  
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**Please review.  
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